


Of Lochs and Lockets

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bilbo is So Done, But he is a grump at first, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Scotland, They're both hopeless dorks, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9679769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: When William 'Bilbo' Baggins is sent to the Scottish highlands to ease tensions amongst the northern clans following the unifcation of Scotland and England, he expects conflict and misery to dog his steps. He does not expect to fall for the laird, Thorin Durin.-Some time ago the delightful rutobuka drew some 18th century Scottish and English nobility Bagginshield for mcmanatea and Mim.This was followed by more art from the lovely shipsicle and airbornonawind on tumblr, which has inspired me to write a little something about it for Valentine’s Day, using these pictures as inspiration.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutobuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/gifts), [mcmanatea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmanatea/gifts), [mimmuszh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimmuszh/gifts), [shipsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsicle/gifts), [airbornonawind](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=airbornonawind).



> I'll admit, I really wanted to make this into quite a historically accurate and interestingly detailed fic. However, in trying to do so I realised that not only would it become FAR longer than I intended, but would likely end up very angsty simply because of the time period we are dealing with here. As such I've decided to be lenient with historical details in favour for a shorter, far happier plot. I hope that's okay with everyone :)

The library of Durin Castle was quite possibly one of the finest in the country. Decorated in rich, warm colours with dark wood panelling and furniture, impressive rugs, and of course, shelves upon shelves of books; William 'Bilbo' Baggins should have felt right at home. 

And most days, he did. Unfortunately though, today was not 'most days' and so instead of curling up in one of Laird Durin's comfortable armchairs and indulging in one of the fine books the library had to offer, Bilbo was seated at the desk in the corner of the room. His face was buried in his folded arms as he groaned piteously and with just a hint of melodrama. 

He was going to be killed! Either run through with a broadsword, cleaved with a halberd, or else stuck somewhere most unpleasant with a dirk… 

Well… perhaps they would not kill him outright if he was fortunate. He _had_ become friends with the clan after all. No, he would merely be run out of Scotland and the tenuous relationship Bilbo had been helping to forge between the discontented highland clans and the rest of the now unified country would be ruined. 

All because he was idiotic enough to go and fall in love. 

It had been several months since Bilbo had arrived in Scotland in hopes of easing the tension that still lingered within the most northerly clans. They had not been keen on the unification and many had made their displeasure known quite clearly. Too much bad blood and too many differing cultural opinions and politics had made it so that feelings ran high and there was a serious threat of an uprising.

Bilbo had been asked to stay with one of the most influential clans on an extended visit to try to smooth any ruffled feathers. A friend of his late mother had suggested his name after remembering how diplomatic his father had always been. He had assumed that Bilbo, so much in his father's likeness and mannerisms, would be much the same. 

He had misjudged Bilbo quite impressively. 

As decorous a façade as Bilbo tried to maintain, being landed gentry after all, he had in fact more of his mother's sharp tongue and temper than he cared to admit to. 

It had been a fractious first few weeks following his arrival to the castle. 

Though most of the Durin clan had taken a shine to him as soon as he had arrived despite the disadvantage of him being English. The laird, called Thorin, and his sister Dís had been cool and standoffish at best.  

Thorin had scoffed and claimed he looked more like a grocer than a fellow lord, and Dís had held such lingering bitter sorrow in her eyes that Bilbo had been quite put out by the frosty reception. 

He was later told by Thorin's kindly elder cousin Balin, that the cause for this was due to the fact that the English had killed both Dís's husband, and she and Thorin's brother Frerin in one of the many skirmishes preceding the union not ten years past.

Naturally, Bilbo had felt slighted that he should be tarred with the same brush as those who had killed Víli and Frerin, and so found himself locking proverbial horns with Thorin more often than was probably advisable. 

The tension had thankfully eased however, thanks in part to Dís's sons. Fíli and Kíli were fine lads, both in their late teens, irrepressibly adventurous, inquisitive, and friendly without even a trace of their uncle's anger towards the English or their mother's distrust. 

It was the sight of the three of them laughing together as they played cards (Kíli cheating most obviously with tricks he had picked up from Nori), that leant a softening in Dís's treatment of Bilbo. As time wore on a cautious friendship was formed between them, burgeoned by a shared love of poetry, history, and cartography. 

Balin's brother, Dwalin, who Bilbo expected to be terribly difficult to befriend given his firm friendship and loyalty to Thorin actually proved easier to impress than first thought. All it took was proof of his remarkable aim after being invited out to shoot some game with the burly man (Bilbo had a suspicion that Dwalin had been hoping he might make a fool of himself), and sharing some gingerbread he made with Bombur one rainy afternoon. 

It was Thorin who had proved to be the toughest nut to crack as it were. Bilbo had suspected such might be the case, but the Englishman was nothing if not persistent. He had vowed to himself almost as soon as he arrived, that if he could not heal the rift between the clans and England, he would at least strive to form a friendship of his own with them. Who knew? Perhaps it would help. 

It was only thanks to a ridiculous argument that Bilbo and Thorin became friendly at all. Bilbo quite forgot what it was even about now, something to do with how they each ran their estates he thinks… but it had devolved into petty, childish insults embarrassingly quickly, ending only when Bilbo snapped with; 

"'Baggins' you say my name so scathingly, yet your family manages to be civil. Call me by my given name or do not bother speaking to me at all." 

"Your given name is ridiculous. What kind of a name is _Bilbo_?"

"It's William, actually. Bilbo was simply a nickname my mother gave me… it rather stuck." Bilbo's eyes were narrowed dangerously, if he _dared_ say a single derogatory thing against his mother… "Besides, what kind of a name is _Thorin_? It's not the least bit Scottish sounding." 

"That would be because it isn't," Thorin remarked dryly. "None of my clan have Scottish names though it seems you have failed to notice that. I thought you enjoyed history and studying other languages, or so Dís says." 

The simmering anger Bilbo had felt fled in light of this new revelation, and Thorin was oddly amused by how quickly the irate little man deflated and tilted his head quizzically, obviously wishing to learn more. 

"What names are they then?" 

"Norse," Thorin replied and took a seat, suspecting that his guest would wish to glean more from him than that. He had proven to have a keen mind and boundless capacity for curiosity Thorin had noted.

"Whyever have you all taken Norse names when you live here though?" 

"We did not always live here. Generations ago, our kin hailed from places further north than Scotland. After we migrated here we decided to keep the memory of our old home alive through our names, it became something of a family tradition."

"That's terribly interesting. I would like to know more, if I may. I've been meaning to study the people of the north for quite some time now but never quite got 'round to it." 

Bilbo had plopped into the armchair beside Thorin with such genial ease that the laird almost laughed at the change in the mood.

Well… if _Dís_ could learn to tolerate him then maybe he should try a little harder as well. Thorin sighed and relented. 

"Very well, I shall see what I can remember from the family history. What do you wish to know?" 

They developed a tradition of their own thereafter. Following dinner every night, Thorin and Bilbo would retire to Thorin's library. There they would discuss family history, or sometimes read together. Often they would play cards or chess. Sometimes even daring to discuss politics or culture, and though these discussions still occasionally led to bickering, it was much more light-hearted than when Bilbo had first arrived. 

A friendship finally formed between the laird and the young English noble, and friendship may have been all it had remained, if not for the events at the loch.


End file.
